


the words "i love you" dance like popcorn

by pomme (manta)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, only the devil himself, who can be mean to yachi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 19:04:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3580497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manta/pseuds/pomme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yachi is braver than she thinks, and Tsukishima likes Yachi (and dinosaurs) more than he'll ever admit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the words "i love you" dance like popcorn

**Author's Note:**

> What started out as TsukiYachi headcanoning for fun with my friend Vicky turned into a fic. Thanks, yo.
> 
> Appreciative thoughts also go to my beta [b_minor](http://archiveofourown.org/users/b_minor), who deserves the best pudding milk in the world.

The volleyball drills are unforgiving, the weather even more so.

The windows and doors, pulled open to their widest, do little to cool the sweltering gym. Every so often a warm breeze, a pathetic substitute for the broken air conditioning, flits in. The dusty fans Takeda-sensei manages to find, conjured from a musty equipment room, serve only to circulate hot air.

It’s a miserable day, though not an impossible one. Through Ukai’s gruff pointers, Takeda’s gentle encouragement, the upperclassmen serving by example, and the unshakeable spirits of the more gung ho players, the team perseveres to the mid-practice break.

Before anyone can even try to help, Yachi’s off to fetch the water bottles and towels.

The team head over to the bench as a rowdy group, but immediately fall into an obedient queue as they approach. For her part, Yachi can feel her jaws ache from maintaining the most encouraging smile she can muster while inquiring after each of them. ("How are you today, Yamaguchi-san?" "Ah! I'm fine, thank you Yachi-san! Please take care as well!" “And Noya-san! What a cool receive just now!” “Right?! I still have three hundred of 'em left in me!” “O-oh, your energy’s amazing! It encourages me too!”)

“Here, Tsukishima-san!” she finally calls to the last player, and he lopes over.

Their hands casually brush when he takes the proffered bottle and towel in her hands.

“Thanks,” he says, voice as unaffectedly dry as ever. When he ducks his head slightly to properly rub his neck dry his lips pull upwards just the slightest bit; when her cheeks flush pink, his smile grows into a smirk.

It’s meant only for her.

Unfortunately, he’s not short enough his face is hidden from everyone else.

“Hey, why’s Tsukki smiling at Yachi?” Hinata wonders aloud to the gym at large, before he realizes just _what_ that could mean.

By the time he catches on a split second later, so has the rest of the team.

Yachi’s blush has evolved to the point she seems to have spent a day at the beach without wearing a drop of sunscreen. All she can do is stare at the polished wooden boards at her feet and try not to think about what’s going through the others’ heads.

Like, why is she with _Tsukishima_ , of all the boys in her year? Why not Hinata, who makes her laugh and with whom she can converse with for hours? Or Yamaguchi, a gentle soul who never grows impatient when she’s nervous? Or even Kageyama, who at least _tries_ to look agreeable for her benefit? What's with the sweaty piece of hair stuck to her forehead? And her knee socks pulled up at uneven lengths? Why can't the floor turn into a sinkhole and swallow her up? What if-

She nearly leaps clear of the floor at a warm pressure on her shoulder, and thank God it’s him.

She knows her own eyes are wide. His mouth is set in his customary expression of distaste, except for the quiet burning of his eyes that indicates he's going after Hinata. But his steadying hand on her shoulder serves as both anchor and apology.

Tsukishima can feel the manager proper’s eyes burning a hole into the back of his head. Shimizu won’t make a fuss for Yachi’s sake, but the message is clear.

 _Be good to her, or you’ll answer to me_.

He inclines his head ever so slightly. He intends to.

 

* * *

 

It’s no surprise that, like everything else outside of academics and volleyball, their music tastes vary wildly. So when Yachi declares her love for all things bubblegum pop and idols, Tsukishima doesn’t bat an eye.

He, however, does not expect to spend his afternoon in clothes he usually wears for volleyball practice, attempting to synchronize his movements with the smiling girl group on Yachi’s flat screen TV, Yachi herself providing encouragement over the auto-tuned vocals.

“Twirl, twirl, twirl- that’s right! Now wiggle your hips!” Yachi giggles. “Now clap-! Ooh, be careful not to trip. I always forget the foot over foot turn, too.”

It’s not that Tsukishima’s a _bad_ dancer, exactly. Hours of tapping along to classical concertos and blocking practice have gifted him an above-average sense of rhythm, and he memorizes the moves on the screen quickly. But his limbs bear a strong resemblance to long, angular noodles when they do anything that’s not moving straight up and down.

It’s also not for Yachi’s lack of trying. Anyone who willingly tutors Kageyama and Hinata, not to mention _three_ _times a week_ , is a saint in Tsukishima’s eyes. Sure enough, she never raises her voice and slowly walks him through each move and he has a feeling that even if he pesters her endlessly, she’ll show him as many times as he needs.

She’s the type of teacher who focuses more on effort, than the results. “You’re doing great, Tsukki-kun! You’re such a good dancer!”

He’s a sap, is what he is. The fact he agreed to try dancing at all is already damning enough evidence.

But he’s also suffered though enough songs like “Shine! Let’s Love!” to know when it’s time for a breather.

“I’m getting some water,” he says, ignoring the onscreen cue for the next line. “You go ahead.”

“Are you sure?” Yachi’s eyes immediately flick to his face, her hands nervously twisting together. 

“Yeah.” And before she can ask him further or really start feeling bad, he turns on his heel to walk into her state-of-the-art kitchen.

It takes a little experimentation with the electronic system; while it's impeccably stylish like the rest of Yachi’s home, is not exactly user-friendly. But he finally pours himself a glass of water, careful to take small sips at first (God knows how many times Hinata's choked from taking too enormous a gulp), and when the music in the living room resumes, he leans against the doorway to observe Yachi’s progress- a privilege denied him earlier when he was flailing his limbs alongside her.

His glass is almost empty, but his mouth is so parched it’s like he never took a sip. 

Yes, Yachi’s dancing is set to terrible music Tsukishima would never willingly listen to. She’s paused the TV despite his insistence, opting instead for her phone’s music playing on shuffle while she waits for him 

But when she’s truly dancing (not slowly, to show him the moves, or precisely, when she’s demonstrating for others, or clumsily, when she’s self conscious), when she lets her anxieties and thoughts go, she is all fluidity and grace, enthusiasm radiating off of her in waves.

Yachi's kind and good natured reputation is well known to their peers, but it’s this side of her that he selfishly wants to keep for himself.

The song Yachi's dancing to (a downright weird fusion of idol pop and heavy metal) finally ends. She waits, arms loosely at her sides, for the next track on her dance playlist. From her prepared stance it seems highly likely she’s memorized the routines to every idol song on her phone.

Most likely every idol song in existence, Tsukishima thinks, and inwardly groans at just how many dance sessions they’ll need to exhaust Yachi’s entire idol repertoire.

(This is before he realizes he’s willing to suffer through more of these dance dates, and _man_ , just how far gone is he?)

He’s aware he’s staring, and he’s lost for words, and there’s something strange, warm, in his chest. And he knows why - despite his disinterest in the activity itself, Tsukishima can feel himself slipping deeper, into that bottomless and sure stomach-lurching feeling of affection.

They’re both surprised to hear the first slow notes of a slow piano ballad that starts playing instead.

“Oops! How did that one get in there?” Yachi says cheerfully to no one in particular, and turns towards the speaker dock to hit the “next” button.

She doesn’t quite get there, on account of walking straight into his arms. His arms catch on her shoulders and linger there, softening the blow. 

“Tsukki... kun...?” She unsuccessfully cranes her neck back to look at him (damn it, he’s so _tall_ ), and eventually settles to look at a spot somewhere just beneath his collarbone. 

“Why do you spend so much effort on these songs?”

“W-what?” 

He doesn't sound angry, but he's talking to a spot over her head instead of to her face, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “Learning these songs. It’s pointless. You’ll never need them for school, or for anything.”

Yachi’s face falls. “O-oh, sorry,” she stammers. “I guess that's what you thought of today, then,” and her fingers brush against his waist as she starts to move away.

Quick as lightning, he takes both of her wrists in one hand to coax her closer, his other hand winding tentatively around her waist.

“Today was troublesome,” he mumbles, so quietly she wouldn’t have caught it, if the words hadn’t been spoken into her ear.

 

* * *

 

The piano ballad becomes their song, but their place is a tiny bakery and café, tucked away in a corner a few blocks from school.

It has everything they want- a quiet environment that won’t spike Yachi’s anxiety or Tsukishima’s irritation, sturdy wooden tables good for studying, delicious fugashi for her, and sweet strawberry shortcake for him. They easily while away hours there, happy to spend long periods of comfortable silence in each other's company.

Today, Yachi’s sure Tsukishima immediately picked up on her jitters. But besides a slight frown, he doesn’t ask why her mouth is set in a small tight line, and she’s grateful. She waits until Tsukishima’s closed his literature book and removed his headphones (he hates being interrupted, especially while reading) before she speaks.

Despite his outwardly cold attitude, she knows he's anything but. Even so, her lips barely force out the words.

“Tsukki-kun?”

He arranges the book under the stack of texts on his side of his table, with only his head tilted slightly to indicate he’s listening.

“I, um…” Yachi’s hands clench in her lap, and she’s glad he’s not making eye contact.

 _Courage_ , she reminds herself. The same courage she mustered to declare her intent as the next volleyball club manager to her mom. The courage to meet the team; she knows them now as lovable dorks, but they made an intimidating first impression. And the courage she gathered for her first kiss with the boy sitting across from her, his lanky form stooped to reach her.

“I… wanted to give you this.”

She draws two tiny objects from her pocket, and places them on the table in front of him. When Tsukishima’s gaze flicks downward, Yachi’s hit with a renewed wave of nerves, and she can practically hear the filter between her brain and mouth snap.

“I-I went to the market yesterday, to buy groceries for dinner! There was a phone charm booth, with charms were so cute they caught my eye right away. These are dinosaurs, see! And they're matching, see the colours! Since you like green and I like pink, it works out!”

Tsukishima plucks the green dinosaur from the table to put in his palm, still looking, expression unreadable. Yachi feels a bubble of panic rising in her gut.

“You don’t have to take it!” she babbles. “I mean, if you don’t like that kind of thing- couples with matching accessories and stuff. I just thought, you know, I saw them in passing and you might like them. They’re so cute, with their happy faces and their tails, and I know you like dinosaurs, and you know that I know that you know that I like dinosaurs- wait, _what_? Anyway-“

She jumps when he taps his charm against her forehead.

“Thanks,” Tsukishima says. He holds her gaze for a long moment, before drawing his arm back to pull out his phone.

Her panic ebbs away as she watches him attach the charm right then and there, and the act makes her heart swell in a way that no verbose, feel-good speech ever could.

Simple, but that’s all the reassurance she needs.

Sometimes, she wishes he would sweep her off her feet with some wildly romantic gesture. She still does. But that’s just his style- pragmatic, no fireworks, no nonsense, and his tastes and interests follow the same pattern. They frequently swap interesting books from their personal libraries, but his most affectionate act includes giving her texts she not only enjoys, but needs- on volleyball, interior design, psychology.

(“For your more difficult students,” he says about the last topic, and Yachi still doesn’t know whether Kageyama and Hinata being in the room at the time was a coincidence.)

While his subtle way of expressing his feelings took time to adjust to, Yachi’s since realized his quiet nature comes with steadiness and attentiveness.

So Yachi smiles at the little dinosaur now on Tsukishima’s phone, her stomach no longer squirming but her cheeks a telltale shade of scarlet.

She’s too focused on Tsukishima’s long fingers to catch the grin ghosting across his lips.

 

* * *

 

“You know,” Yachi says, taking extra care to keep her tone casual, “There’s a new exhibit at the science museum coming next month!” They’re heading home in the cold, clutching cups of hot cocoa the café’s owner insisted were on the house.

Tsukishima quirks an eyebrow. “There won't be any new fossils, just information boards. You won’t find it interesting.”

Like in everything else, Tsukishima’s far more understated when it comes to showing enthusiasm. But Yachi knows the signs: a flash of lenses as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his head tilting just the slightest bit forward, his long legs shifting and rearranging under the table, and- a new and rather exciting development- a surreptitious glance over to see if, she too, is interested.

“I’ll decide that for myself,” she counters. “And anyway, there’s something about people getting excited that makes me excited, too! Even if the topic is dinosaurs,” she adds, making an exaggerated frown of mock horror.

Tsukishima holds out a hand for her heavy schoolbag and books, smirking. “Well, _I_ know that you know that I know that you like them.”

He flinches when she pokes him in the side.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a lyric from AKB48’s “Heavy Rotation”. The group Babymetal is the “downright weird fusion of idol pop and heavy metal”. 
> 
> I think “Tsukki-kun” is too cute a nickname to NOT stick. Yachi calls him that after they're outed as a couple; "Kei-kun" comes later.
> 
> This isn't a pairing I'm quite comfortable writing yet, so I might revisit them in the future. Thanks for reading!


End file.
